Foster | sokeefe

ONE: SOPHIE

A/N: Just reminding you this has spoilers for Unlocked.

Sophie sat at the edge of the pristine bed, her brown eyes brimming with sympathy as she watched Keefe's chest steadily rise and fall, the motion almost as therapeutic as the rhythmic flow of the ocean.

He wasn't probably wouldn't ever wake up. Three years had gone by without even the slightest hint of an eye opening, or a leg twitching.

She was trying to reassure herself, trying to keep her hopes low, but she couldn't help but yearn for him to wake up, to be able to talk, crack a grin, and for her to tell him she had believed in him all along, unlike some people.

Her mind flashed to Fitz, a slow, rumbling anger erupting from deep inside of her. How dare he tell her that Keefe would never wake up, that she should move on? Keefe had been Fitz's best friend, yet Fitz had given up so quickly, almost as if he had never cared.

Glancing back to Keefe, Sophie bit her lip as she chanted yet again for him to wake up, like a mantra in her brain. She would kill to see Fitz's face when Keefe woke up. If Keefe woke up.

Sophie had started to dread the pitying looks people had started to give her, the slight glances people gave her out of the peripheral of their eyes. Keefe wasn't dead. He wouldn't, wouldn't, just give up like that. He wouldn't.

Sophie gingerly touched Keefe's hair, brushing it out of his eyes with a careful tenderness. How she wished for those eyes to open, for him to grin and make some kind of smart reply, something she would never think of, not in a million years.

"Oh, Keefe," she said softly, "why won't you wake up?"

Keefe stayed stone faced and motionless, as if the words had passed right over him, and he was completely oblivious to it all. For a brief second, the thought to enter his mind, to talk to him telepathically entered her mind. He was still alive. His brain should still be unaffected.

She had been specifically instructed not to do this, that the shock could kill Keefe, but when did she ever follow the rules?

Sophie had been told that patients in a coma could hear, that they were able to perceive the world around them, but now she highly doubted that.

If Keefe could hear, why would he wake up when she asked him to? If Keefe knew he had been in a coma for three years, he would have woken up by now. She was sure of it.

At least he was still alive. There was a time, one stupid, gorgeous sunny day when Keefe's heart had stopped completely. Just gave up, like there was nothing left for it to do. And Sophie hadn't even known until the next day.

She had lost it then. If Keefe's heart had stopped, she deserved to know. She was the one who was most likely to get it going again.

She had to speak to him. She had to.

Closing her eyes, she placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, matching her breathing to his as she slowly reached the barriers of his brain, slowly dipped a little toe into the freezing waters.

And entered.

His mind was cold, empty and filled with dust and clatter that shouldn't be there. Couldn't be there. Inhaling deeply, she started to look around, the once bright colors of his mind a fantastical echo of the dull, pastel that was left.

"Keefe," she breathed, "please wake up."

Nothing happened. She hadn't really expected anything to. She closed her eyes and exhaled, briefly reminding herself that she shouldn't even be here, that this wouldn't have worked anyway.

Gathering up the lose ends of the ridiculous cape she was made to wear she turned, and started to withdraw from his mind, just as a sudden movement made her jump, the shock still vibrating the edges of her head.

"Foster?"

She turned, holding her breath. "Keefe?"

There was no one there, though the faint outline of a shadow was cast on the ground, where a person should be standing.

"Woah," he said, the shadow moving closer, as if he couldn't get a corporal form yet. "Did I, like, miss a birthday or something?"

Sophie looked away, though there was nothing to look away from.

"You missed three," she managed to blurt out.

The shadow stopped short. "Three?"

Sophie didn't reply.

"Three?" he repeated, muttering some curses under his breath.

She looked back at the shapeless figure, before quickly looking away at something else. Anything else. "You wouldn't wake up. You didn't seem to be able to."

The shadow seemed to shake its head. "You're not the only one who can be stubborn, Foster."

Sophie bit her lip, her hand almost, almost straying to pull an eyelash out.

"I'm going to wake up. As soon as I can," Keefe said, stepping closer to Sophie, while she took a step back, hesitant.

She looked up at where the shadow ended, and for a split second, she couldn't sworn she saw the opaque outline of a body.

"I promise," he repeated.

Sophie gave him a short, sharp nod, still unable to look at him as she turned, and drew herself out of his mind, stumbling as she made her way out of the Healing Center.

Keefe's words were still ringing in her head as she literally bumped into Fitz, tripping over in the process.

"Fitz!" Sophie exclaimed, feeling her cheeks heat up, then inwardly cursing herself for doing so. "You're here."

Fitz flashed her a perfect smile, and Sophie resisted the urge to slap it off his face.

Sophie brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hating that after all these years, her heart still tap-danced every time she saw him.

"So," she said, attempting to give him an icy stare, "what are you really doing here?"

He gave a general arm wave. "My dad wanted me to check up on him."

Sophie snorted, walked past him and light leaped away, immediately regretting her actions.

She walked to Calla's Panakes and sat under the gently swaying branches, watching the petals slowly flutter to the ground, billowing in the wind.

The Moonlark exhaled deeply, closed her eyes and rested her head on the trunk of the tree, focusing on nothing but the cool breeze blowing her cheeks, slowly whispering in her ears.

She had hardly realised it, but the lack of much needed sleep had taken its toll on her and before very long, her head lolled as she drifted of into the void of inscrutable dreams, and the terror of unforgiving nightmares.